Recent DJ Posts

I'm looking at a man lying on the floor, bound in ropes, while a woman talks to me about him. He doesn't have a shirt and the ropes are cutting into his skin, I can smell blood, though he's otherwise unhurt. I can't see his face. The woman's saying, "We would walk a (something) of this guy. (Something long) lest he move-" I'm thinking that this situation reminds me of something I did under Charlemagne's rule.

FK, catching up with Janette. She's shocked to learn I haven't turned anyone since we separated in 1683 - it's been a century or two since then. She finds it impossible to imagine spending all that time without your own kind.

On the subject of writing, the man I'm speaking with is arguing that using a gateway to hell as a plot device is trite. The gateway to hell should be the book itself, not a device.

Walking aimlessly down the halls of the McKittrick Hotel, I was considering passing the time at Hecate's replica bar - she'll be out for a while yet but it's always possible someone interesting will stop in. But I heard the beautiful sound of a piano coming from the room just beyond the bar's entrance, and followed it, and met a classical composer who I could not convince to give me his name.

I'm trying to hold a conversation with a giant. He's holding an ax, the blade of which is currently buried in the roof of a building, and there are a few terrified people running away - they're being very loud and making it difficult for me to continue our conversation. But the giant's just thanked me for something, and I respond in disbelief, "You thanked a jinxed magician." That's something you shouldn't do, very bad luck.

At the McKittrick Hotel, I ran an errand for Hecate, and in return she's granting me access to a certain flight of stairs. I hand her written note to this effect to the doorman, and he removes the rope blocking off the stairs. He looks bored. He warns me that the things I'll see up there are just ghosts, so don't take any of it too seriously. I tell him I know. I'm still looking forward to seeing something new.

At the top of the stairs, everything is airy and bright, and there's the dead body of a soldier in dress uniform sitting against the railing that overlooks the ballroom, arms spread and head dangling forward in a way that reminds me of a scarecrow. His name's Jeremy. A woman in white walks up to him - there's something careless about her. Jeremy gets up from the railing, and they begin to dance through the rooms of the hotel. There's no music.

I'm sitting at the foot of the banquet table at the McKittrick as the Macbeths come down the stairs. They're drunk. Lady Macbeth's laughing, leaning against her husband. There may or may not be others sitting around the banquet table with me - I have a vague impression of shapes in the chairs, but they're insubstantial. I'm not sure how visible I am, for that matter.

Macbeth picks up his lady and carries her to the dais with her legs wrapped around his waist. He takes her to a chair set against the wall, not at the table, and as he lets her go he says something into her ear, much too quietly for me to hear. As he walks away she says, suddenly serious, "I doubt it." He comes to stand over the banquet table, clumsy movements, overconfident attitude. I'm enjoying watching him, and the sense of anticipation.

Speaking with Jareth, I end a sentence with "god!" A general exclamation, but that's not how he takes it. He replies, entirely serious, "Don't call me that." I didn't, but good to know your arrogance has some limits.

I'm singing the title role of Don Giovanni, wearing a mask that covers my entire face, even my mouth. Reminds me of the McKittrick. While on stage, I switch places with someone else, identically dressed.

(Woke up. Back to sleep.)

I'm swimming in a pool with a woman who's offered to grant me a wish. To do so, she tells me I must go to Thailand and walk into the jungle in a certain place until I reach an abandoned building. Here, I must draw one of two specific symbols in the dirt. It doesn't matter which one I choose, what matters is the reasoning behind my choice. Whichever I choose, she'll draw the other. She'll stand at my back, using those two symbols in some way, during which time I must not turn to look at her or communicate with her in any way. Success depends on her understanding why I made the choice I did.

A young man runs out of a house, pursued by several women wearing black and red. Shortly afterward, inside that building, I come across three young men, and I ask, "Which one of you sprinted out of here looking like Orpheus with the Bacchae on his heels?"

I'm looking over some photos of the new cast at the McKittrick. (Side note - last time I dreamed of Orpheus, he was in the McKittrick-as-underworld.) A new storyline has been added in. The photo I'm looking at now shows the woman at the center of that new storyline, sitting on a stool at a diner counter - sad expression, short wavy blonde wig, purple dress, purple purse on the counter. The character's female but always played by a male actor. In the background behind her, there's a man in a suit slouched in one of the booths, watching her. He's a sort of sycophant character, sleazy, untrustworthy, but entirely loyal to her in his own way.

(Woke up. Back to sleep.)

Edwardian England, there's a heavyset, motherly woman gently pushing a sick young woman back down into her bed, over the young woman's protests - she's feeling much better but she's having a hard time thinking straight enough to make herself understood. At this point she's just saying, "No, no." The light from the window is hurting her head, it's much too bright. I'm sympathetic about that, but mostly I'm relieved to be able to see her like this at all, relieved that she's all right and that the connection that lets us see what the other's doing is now working. I haven't seen her in some time.

I see images representing all the other people I have those connections with, with an image representing this woman now added to the end of the line. There are maybe two dozen images here, older connections as I look back farther. The most recent image, aside from that Edwardian scene, represents someone I just saw recently in person, pleasant feelings. As I look farther back, there's one image that instantly brings up feelings of irritation - we don't keep in touch, we've never been able to understand each other, and just this brief visual reminder of her brings up that old frustration. There's a few places where an image should be there but isn't - the woman whose death I dreamed of recently, the roses that turned to ash. And at the other end of the line, the very first two: the first, a woman with a long red braid, a sword in her hand, standing in a snow-covered forest. The second, a more symbolic image - a variety of colorful butterflies hanging in the air against a dark background, two trees just barely visible in the darkness. And a little bit apart from the last of those images, a simple black image to represent me.

(Woke up. Back to sleep.)

I'm lying on my back in a field hospital in 20th century China. There's a young woman treating me, wearing a uniform, with her hair tied up in two braids. I've been enjoying speaking with her. I haven't been enjoying whatever's in that IV. I'm thinking about the woman mentioned in that previous scene, with the roses turning to ash.

Still in China, I'm in a small boat that a middle-aged man is steering by pole. I've hired him to take me and an old woman back to her hometown, though it's been flooded and abandoned for a very long time. The old woman doesn't live in the present anymore. Her hometown is the place where I last saw that woman with the roses, though that was a long time ago and I don't know if I'll be able to find anything useful there. I haven't been back to this part of the world since before this area was flooded. I focus on the ruins of a building I recognize, as the boat passes underneath.

A woman who's been flirting with me - neither of us seriously - is taking my hand under the pretext of palm reading, turning it this way and that. She'd been joking around, but as she's 'reading' my palm, she notices the tiny raised circle on the tip of my thumb that holds a retracted needle and she stops smiling, though she doesn't understand what she's looking at.

(Woke up. Back to sleep.)

I've been sitting in a lounge room in the McKittrick. There's a host and a microphone, allowing the guests to listen in on his internal thoughts as we eat and drink. He's been sitting in the booth next to mine, having a conversation with a woman, another resident of the hotel. But when she leaves, he comes and sits across from me. He's bewildered as to why I've spent so much time here tonight. Of course the guests are all free to enjoy our stay at the hotel in any way we choose, there's no wrong way to go about it, and if I want to just sit here and watch his story unfold, that's fine - but my stay is half over already. Why don't I go out and see the show?

I'm thinking that I'll come back another time to enjoy the show - but nonetheless I leave the lounge and walk up to the next floor, which is in complete chaos thanks to the work of the three witches. Fragmentary memory here - I remember seeing the boy witch in passing and being annoyed with him, but no context beyond that. In a small room, I came across a woman who I realized has been/will be the next bald witch - right now she's another lost soul who came here on a mission but wound up getting drawn into Hecate's world. By the end of the night she has/will have shaved her head and altered her body language completely, transforming into one of the three witches for the next night.

The last of the three witches and the people under her sway are surrounded by sexual images. I only saw her briefly in passing as she led a young prince off down one of the halls. But instead I come across the naked prophetess who'll be taking this witch's role for the next night, currently in the process of transforming into that role. She puts her hands on my shoulders and pushes me to my knees in front of her, and I'm thinking that it's always a man she chooses for this part of the performance - the other guests in the room with me are all women, and they remain standing, pressing in close around us, watching her with a look of worship. She has a woman standing guard next to her during this dance, making sure none of the guests attempt to touch her without her permission. One of those women watching laughs off this restriction, and to show how ridiculous she thinks it is, she reaches out and puts her hand on the prophetess/witch's thigh with a familiar attitude. The performance comes to a complete stop. In the trouble that follows, I move away from the crowd and into the staff-only halls of the hotel.

Visiting the McKittrick, I've been following the taxidermist - a bald man with sunken eyes, looks starved and intense - as he talks to a young blonde man with a heavy jaw who works for the hotel, very earnest type. When it's time for the final banquet, they meet up with two women in clothes from the Victorian era and accompany them down the stairs - but I come to realize their final scene won't be with everyone else at the banquet at all. The women dance down the stairs, floating from one bannister to the other. Standing with them on the bannisters, so close to the ceiling, I'm very aware of Hecate's influence on the floor just above us.

(Woke up. Back to sleep.)

I've just walked away from a room where I'd been talking to a woman. Now I'm standing in the ruins of a building, on a street where a lot of buildings have been destroyed. Nearby there's a large brown rat on top of a pile of rubble, and I have a sense of fellow feeling as I watch it. I don't really want to go out into the street - it's much too exposed - but I don't see any way around it. Once in the street, I catch sight of a woman in a white dress two or three buildings down, behind a wall of iron bars. She sees me and jumps up and down to get my attention. "Nick! It is Nicky, isn't it?" I recognize her, we're close. I (or rather my POV character here) use several different names - 'Nick' is for all intents and purposes my (POV character's) real name, but I haven't heard it for a long time, so this is something of a reunion. But I'm debating whether I want to take the time to rescue her from behind those iron bars.

(Woke up. Back to sleep.)

I've been walking around backstage at a sort of club in the 1930s or so after leaving the audience of a show on stage in the main room. Talking to various people, overhearing conversations by dancers. I'm just now leaving a smokey room where two men have fallen asleep. I've been looking for someone, a specific woman. There's a disaster or a tragedy that's about to occur here, and I have to find her first.

The show in the main room ended while I was backstage, and everyone's straggling out. In the lobby, I come across a large man I remember meeting earlier. He's putting on his coat. Near the doors, his wife and daughter are waiting for him, and he introduces them to me. I recognize the daughter as the woman I was looking for - she's just a kid. I hadn't been expecting that she'd be a kid in this era. I kneel down to introduce myself to her eye to eye, using the name "Deacon Willfire" - it's the fake name I've been using here in the past, but Deacon is similar to the name I'll be using when she meets me as an adult in the future. She's very shy here, can barely look at me, but I'm aware that meeting me here will make an impression on her, and the similar names will help that memory along when we meet in the future.

(Woke up. Back to sleep.)

I'm in that kid's room, standing by an empty fireplace that's so large I could easily fit in it just by ducking a little - it's grabbing my attention. But I'm also talking to the kid, saying to her, "A 300-year-old vampire for an imaginary friend?" (I'm referring to myself. She thinks I'm imaginary.) "You're trouble for sure." I'm thinking about the way I'm meeting her at various times in her life out of sequence. From her perspective, proceeding through time in the usual linear fashion, I've wound up being someone she grows up knowing, someone who's been around for most of her life.

Kuroshitsuji-based. I'm looking at a sort of frozen image of two people - as a disembodied observer, I can move around and look at this scene from different angles, but time isn't moving. Two figures in heavy fur-lined coats that cover them completely. I can't see their faces, but I'm aware the tall one in black is Sebastian, and the small one in white that he's carrying is Ciel and also myself. I'm focusing on the hood of Ciel/my coat - the opening for the face is completely in shadow, and something about the deepness and the blackness of that opening and the fact that the face can't be seen makes me feel sure he's a demon.

I'm about to enter a temple, together with three or four friends and family. We're standing around an outdoor sink where you wash your hands before entering the temple, and I'm looking around and thinking about the beauty of the entrance. Over to the left there's a separate building that's also part of the temple compound, but not sacred, and when I realize the others haven't been there before, I insist we go see it first. There's a line to purchase entrance - which is very expensive - and they don't understand what this other place is, so I explain it to them while we're waiting in line. This building, the McKittrick, was built by an eccentric rich man who filled it with all manner of strange collections over his life. After he died, it was bought by a woman who- (My memory's vague about what I said that woman did, but it was something to do with folklore. Elves were specifically mentioned, prompting a scene change.)

Third person, outside that building, it's night now. Three strange-looking figures that I think of as elves are standing around, agitated about something, waiting to execute some plan.

(Woke up. Back to sleep.)

A friend of mine introduces me to a woman he's in love with - who turns out to be a living weapon sent to kill me. But she herself hadn't realized that; she was a sleeper agent, some kind of machine, programmed to become a weapon again the moment she saw me. It's painful to watch her personality disappear. I'm angry at the people who created her, and also blaming myself for involving both her and my friend. I try to take care of the situation without my friend finding out what's happening.

This ultimately ends in a chase scene where I'm running from that friend. I go semi-lucid while flying to avoid him. There's a small stand of trees at the edge of the property, and as I reach them, I decide to change scenes; I stop among the trees and focus on the feel of the branches around me, trying to change the scene to a dense forest. When I stop focusing on the feel and look around again, I'm not in a forest, but the grass is much taller and the buildings around have vanished, and the friend I was running from flies over my head without seeing me.

Fragment involving Odin and Thor. And later a fragment involving Persephone, which referenced an older dream where the McKittrick had been a journey to the Underworld.

I'm hanging from a tree, holding onto a branch with both hands, dangling above rows of spears planted in the ground. I believe I've been slipping in and out of a dreamworld, and I need to get back, there's something there I need to accomplish. I consider that this place might also be a dream - but whether it is or not, I still believe I need to get back to that other dreamworld.

Below me, just beyond the rows of spears, there's a woman who reminds me in some fashion of a lizard. If she'll do me a favor that will help me get back to that dreamworld, I promise her a jar of three peaches. Someone else has promised her two peaches to do something different - that someone else is a good friend of mine, but we haven't been able to consult with each other recently, so we've accidentally wound up getting in each other's way. Now the lizard-woman's torn, deciding between the two offers, but I'm thinking it'll work out well for her whichever way she goes.

I've just walked back into the McKittrick Hotel. It's the middle of the day, so the place is mostly closed, but there's a guy at the front desk who tells me the owner has died. I climb up a few flights of stairs and come to a room with an old glass bottle hanging on a rope from the doorknob, with a red liquid like blood inside. Hanging next to it there's a card with a series of about 10 questions about the purpose of your visit. One of the questions mentions Maximillian, and reading it, I realize that each question is a reference to a different riddle to solve or mission to carry out, each given by a different resident of the hotel. If a visitor has completed one of these riddles/missions but didn't have a chance to report back before the end of the night, the hotel will permit them to return during the day, to wrap up unfinished business.

Fragments: A guy preparing to move on, saying "Can I borrow this map?"; a gallery/cafe belonging to an art group called The Future People or something similar; a runway show based on Sleep No More; a newly-made vampire using mantras to learn dreamwalking, using it to watch over a friend, another vampire, who's being held hostage.

(Woke up. Back to sleep.)

I'm with a group of people stealing some huge metal sphere, but as we're driving off with it, we lose it, and we circle back and argue over where it could be. I catch sight of myself in the rear view mirror and realize one of my front teeth is loose, to the point of falling out. I'm thinking I'm going to have to see a dentist, which annoys me. I notice all the teeth on that side are loose.

I 'wake up' in my IRL home and go to the bathroom mirror to check my teeth after that dream. I spit out long strings of gritty, bloody material, textured like sand. I'm thinking it's good to get that out.

This werewolf kid in human form is sitting in a car, tied up, with blood covering his face. There's a blond girl in the seat behind him who didn't believe his stories about werewolves until just now, as a werewolf in wolf form leans in through the door, right into the kid's face. The girl starts screaming.

I'm dropping off that same werewolf kid at this mansion, and there are three men standing on the steps out front to meet us. I'm saying to them, "Are you all Adrian's?" Adrian's the wolf kid's name, I'm asking if he turned them, which I'm hoping is not the case. And it isn't; they introduce themselves to me, and it turns out the house holds some organization of witches or magicians or something of that variety. They're all very friendly. One of them, this heavyset old queen, mentions that he's single, and I'm amused. When I introduce myself, I add, "And I'd have to be invited in," just so we're all clear.